


The American Dream

by EnglishHorrorStory



Series: Animalistic [3]
Category: Criminal Minds, X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mentions of knotting, Threesome - M/M/M, cum kink, mentions of mpreg, mentions of rutting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 12:32:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6470116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnglishHorrorStory/pseuds/EnglishHorrorStory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan reflects. His rutt has just finished and he takes some time to step back and enjoy the naked sprawl of his mates whilst thinking about the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The American Dream

The afterglow of a rutt wasn't much of an afterglow, more of a satisfying ache. Rutting wasn't sex, it was dominance and primal, his inner animal coming out to claim, mate and breed. He knew he wouldn't of gotten Remy and spencer pregnant, Remy wasn't an omega, wasn't even feral, and spencer was on the pills that Hank made them. But during his rutt the mission was to mark his mates up as much as possible and fill them to the brim with his seed. It lead to sweaty, sticky bodies. 

Spencer and Remy were both in deep sleeps, exhausted from three days of constant sex. Logan was exhausted too but he'd gotten up for a quick shower and to open the windows, clean up some of the rubbish. During the times he'd fallen asleep, Remy had managed to slip out the room to fetch supplies, food and beer mostly. Lots of meat for Logan, water and juice for himself and spencer. Granola bar wrappers were on the floor on Spencer's side of the bed, a half drank Gatorade on Remy's. The room was a mess, plates and cups, shredded clothes from were Logan wouldn't allow spencer to wear his pyjamas (he'd have to replace them now). It stank of sex and the sheets were covered in cum and slick. 

Logan felt pretty proud of himself actually. 

Remy was sprawled across the bed, tangled with spencer, the boys obviously gravitating towards one another when Logan left. The Cajun looked just as dishevelled as the omega, hair messy and knotty, stomach, thighs and face still smeared with cum. Logan could see he had renewed his mating mark on the boys, with his teeth, the marks looked sore but not serious, red and purple. 

The beta had bruising on his hips and thighs and a handprint around his left bicep, Logan spotted a little dried blood between the boys thighs and guilt wracked through him. Remy would be fine, he knew, sore- but okay. Once he'd gotten them both in a nice hot bath and scrubbed away all the dried cum, that is. 

Spencer didn't look much better, bruised hips and thighs as well. A little blood on his neck from his mark but that was all. 

Both boys however were just.... They stank of Logan. Covered in his seed from head to toe. It had pooled and dried on their stomachs, smudged around their lips and chin and cheeks. Their thighs were caked from were it had dribbled from their red, puffy asses. God, Logan thought, I've done a good fucking job. 

With the mid afternoon sun shining through the balcony door onto the bed, illuminating his mates, the warm glow keeping them warm from the chill of a missing blanket, they looked beautiful. Sprawled out, exhausted and filled, reaking of their alphas scent. Logan had never seen a more stunning sight. 

Stunning. Beautiful. _His_. 

His boys were strong, showed just how strong they are every day. Fighting in battles with the X-men, chasing down serial killers with the FBI. Dealing with past addictions, both of them, dealing with the losses of their first loves. Somedays spencer called up crying, saying how much he missed them, how he loved them, wanted to come home. And some days he called and put on a brave face, letting them know how JJ's baby was, how Garcia had made him smile. Some days Remy found it hard to get out of bed, found it hard to walk down the stairs and face the others, those people whom he betrayed and been betrayed by. Some nights the guilt ate him alive, he'd go to the boathouse and sob into a bottle of bourbon and when Logan found him he'd curl up in his arms and tell him all about how he missed New Orleans, missed his family. Other days he'd saunter about like the old Remy Logan knew, chin up and a swagger that caused even straight men to appreciate what he had. Laughing, joking and pranking until Logan wanted to strangle him in a very non-kinky way. 

But like this Logan could see just how fragile and vulnerable they really are. How much damage he could do to them purely on accident. The cuts and bruises and teeth marks. The tired circles under their eyes from staying awake to service him through his rutt. Logan just wanted to keep them safe, put them somewhere and guard them with his life.

Fuck he loved his boys. Loved them more than anything. He'd give anything up for them. Go anyways, do anything. 

He could imagine it now. Their dream. The big farmhouse with four bedrooms and a big kitchen, surrounded by trees but not too far from the city. Room for spencer and him to run around, a big library. Remy and spencer baking, maybe cookies, or those cupcakes Remy made for special occasions. Spencer's belly big and round, almost ready to pop. A toddler already covered in flour as they tried to help their mommy and papa cook. A beer in his hand as Logan watched from the doorway...

That was the dream. 

They'd get there soon, but for the time being, Logan just enjoyed the view of his mates sprawled in the bed, sticky, sweaty and gorgeous.


End file.
